Just as once at Pompeii, the name of a beloved grandfather appeared on a street sign, baffling and familiar, resonant of the claim that we could've been buried by Vesuvius had history cooperated to immortalize us, yesterday among the organized cracked lapidary list of relics of 2300 saints Pope Paschal housed in his version of the heavenly Jerusalem, shrine of the Carolingian Basilica of Saint Praxedes, explicit and mysterious, one leapt into view—the letters cut resonant of Campania and Syria, of possible Lombards with red hair and green eyes, of voyages and their narratives interrupted for ever for the curious, resigned, "philosophical," hungering.